


tumblr fics

by killerqueenwrites



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Sleepy Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, always happy endings i promise, i love my platonic coparents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22351738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: just a collection of prompt fills and drabbles from my tumblr!
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 68
Kudos: 292





	1. don't need words to say sorry

**Author's Note:**

> the likelihood of me editing these is very low so just bear with pls
> 
> prompt: 'Would you write like Peter and Tony, for example, are arguing about something after which Peter will have a car accident, which will be pretty bad that they will fight for Peter's life, and Tony would say a little bit broke ?'

“Peter, get back in here – Peter!”

“Why?” Peter snaps, his fury evident in his clenched jaw, the set of his shoulders. “What’s the point? You’re not listening to me. You never _listen_ to me!”

“Well, seems like there’s a lot of that going around!” Tony shoots back.

“Jesus Christ, Tony, I’m nineteen!”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because all you seem to be doing is breathing down my neck for every little thing.”

“I’m just–“

“Just what? I’m in college now, Tony. I can’t come running back to you every time I have a problem, and you can’t expect me to!”

“Okay!” Tony throws his hands up; at this point, he’d rather just give up than keep fighting with Peter. “I get it! You can do everything yourself, but the great thing is you don’t _have_ to.”

If he thought the argument would be over, he’s sorely mistaken. “I’m not a kid!”

_Fuck this_. “Then stop acting like it!” Tony roars.

The silence is excruciating.

Peter nods and looks away. “Yeah, well, you know what? You’re not my dad. So stop acting like it.”

The kid might as well have punched him in the gut. “I…”

“I don’t need you hovering all the time, okay? I need to – I need space, Mr Stark. I need to just…go to college, and work, and manage my time by myself. I need you to stop babying me.”

“I’m sorry…” Tony says slowly. “I didn’t think I was, kid, but I can – yeah. Yeah, space is good. I can do that.”

Peter narrows his eyes, looking suspicious. “Why are you agreeing with me? What’s happening?”

“You’re right, you’re an adult. Independence is…fine. Good.”

“Good.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs. There’s a beat of awkward silence. “What’s this really about, kiddo? If there’s something going on, you know you can tell me anything–“

“You’re doing it again!” Peter cries, throwing his hands up before turning around and storming out.

This time, Tony lets him go.

* * *

**_Tony Stark:_ **

_Kid I’m sorry._

_Can you call me when you get back?_

_Drive safe._

* * *

Pepper doesn’t offer anything more than a sympathetic grimace when Tony finally shuffles back into the kitchen.

“FRIDAY told?”

“She did.”

“Was I being an asshole?”

“No…” She smooths his hair back with a sigh. “I think you were being a father who’s just sent his son off to college, and both of you are scared and confused and trying to find a way to make it work.”

Tony groans. “You see May acting like this?”

“Just wait until he gets drunk the first time. Really drunk. She’ll be dragging you up to Cambridge, no doubt about it. She just…lets you deal with Spider-Man things. That’s not any different to before, honey.”

“He didn’t call me,” Tony whispers. “That…Rhino guy could’ve killed him, and I heard about it from the _news_.” He pulls his cell phone out and checks it: no missed calls.

“But he didn’t. He handled it. Pretty well, actually. Only a couple of cars got destroyed.”

“I guess.” Tony frowns at his phone screen. “Kid should be home by now. I told him to call me.”

“May’s or Cambridge?”

“I assumed Cambridge, but either way, he should be…”

“Call him.”

“No, I don’t want to…be overbearing, or – or hover.”

“Being concerned about his welfare is not _hovering_ , Tony. Call him.”

Tony has every intention to, but May Parker’s contact flashes up and he answers reflexively, more out of surprise than anything else. “May! Hi.”

_“Hi, Tony, I’m just checking to see if Peter’s left yours yet. He said he’d be here by dinner time, and Happy wants to start cooking soon.”_

“He left a while ago, May,” Tony says slowly. “At least two hours. We had an argument, and he left straight after.”

_“Oh.”_

“I told him to call me when he got home – I was just about to call him.”

_“I’ve tried his cell five times.”_

Tony meets Pepper’s eyes, both of them suddenly frantic. “I – oh, shit, um…it’s possible he’s still pissed at me and went somewhere to clear his head? The suit isn’t active, so that’s out. Want me to try him?”

_“Yeah, if you could – hang on, I’m getting another call. Be right back.”_

“Yeah.” Tony swipes through his contacts and jabs at Peter’s name; it rings out all the way to voicemail. _Beep_. “Yeah, look, kid, you’re pissed at me. I get it, and we should talk about it. But for the love of God, at least text May.”

**_Tony Stark:_ **

_Text your aunt, she’s freaking out._

_Beep_. “Peter, can you please call one of us? Or even Happy or Pepper if you don’t want to talk to us. Just give us a sign of life, kiddo.”

Nothing. Tony’s heart is pounding, only Pepper’s hand on his shoulder keeping him from falling apart completely.

Finally, his phone rings and he fumbles for the answer button, but it’s May. “Anything?”

_“Yeah. Yeah, that – the hospital just called, Tony.”_

_No_. “The what? Why?”

_“They said Peter – they said he–“_

Tony is gripping the phone so hard he wonders if it will snap. On the other end, there’s a brief, muffled conversation.

_“Boss?”_

“Happy? What’s happening?”

_“The hospital said Peter was in a car accident, Boss. He was admitted about a half hour ago and went straight into surgery. That’s all they could tell us on the phone.”_

“What – what hospital?” Tony stammers out. “I’m going straight there.”

Happy reels off the address and hangs up quickly, keen to get there as quickly as possible. Tony drops his phone onto the countertop with a clatter and turns to stare beseechingly at Pepper.

“Go,” she says firmly. “I’ll be right behind you, just as soon as I find someone to watch Morgan.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh…”

“Go.”

Tony does.

* * *

The nurse at reception doesn’t look the slightest bit fazed by an out-of-breath, red-faced Tony Stark skidding up to her desk.

“I’m here for Peter Parker?”

“Family?”

“Yes, yes – if you check with his aunt, she’ll confirm–“

“Okay, I believe you, sir. They’re in a private waiting room just down the hall here.” She lowers her voice as she gets up from her chair. “We’ve been informed about his, um, special circumstances, so that’s all dealt with. They’re just in here.” She opens a door and ushers him in, and then she’s gone.

“May.”

“Tony.” May manages a watery smile from her seat beside Happy. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“Of course,” Tony says. As if he’d be anywhere else. “Is it bad?”

“We don’t know,” May whispers, “just that he went into surgery, and we had to sign a whole load of forms once we _finally_ found a doctor senior enough to deal with enhanced people.”

“Car accident, right?”

Happy nods, stiff. “Wasn’t even his fault. Driver ran a red light, massive truck swerved to avoid them – kid had no chance, even with his super reflexes. Four cars were in that collision, apparently.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

Tony shakes his head. “He must have been distracted. He…we were fighting, and he stormed out.” He can’t let that be the last thing he and Peter said to each other. He _can't_.

“It’s not your fault, Tony,” May says. “He was driving perfectly. If that other car hadn’t–“ She breaks off. Happy takes her hand.

They sit in heavy silence until the door flies open and they shoot to their feet, but it’s just Pepper.

“Pep,” Tony breathes.

“Hi, honey.” She takes a seat between him and May, grabbing both of their hands. “Anything?”

“Nothing new.”

“So we just have to wait?”

“Yeah,” Tony whispers, like every second that passes isn’t torture. “We just wait.”

* * *

Finally, _finally_ , the door opens again.

“Family of Peter Parker?” the nurse says, and blinks when she looks up. “All of you?”

“Yes,” May says, lifting her chin and visibly inviting a challenge.

“Okay…well, I’m pleased to tell you that Peter came out of surgery well. His, ah, _uniqueness_ meant he had a better chance than most, so he’s escaped with a broken leg, a fractured wrist, some cracked ribs and most likely a nasty concussion.”

“What was the surgery for?” Tony says.

“The paramedics who – do you have full details of the crash?”

“No, only the basics.”

“Okay, well, Peter’s car was crushed between two others and he was trapped inside it for a while; he had to be cut free. This put pressure on his chest for an extended period of time, and the paramedics were concerned about the possibility of a punctured lung. The surgery was to correct the position of his ribs, and the prognosis going forward is good.”

Tony nods, trying to swallow down bile. Peter had been trapped in a car, and he’d been wallowing because they’d had a stupid fight. Beside him, May looks equally nauseous.

“Can we see him?”

“Right this way.” The nurse gestures for them to follow. “He may not come around for a few hours, and even then, he needs to take it easy. We’ll keep him in overnight, and he can go home in the morning if his healing kicks in. Do you have any questions?”

“I’ll be delivering NDAs in the morning,” Pepper says. “I expect everyone who’s been involved with Peter to sign one.”

To her credit, the nurse just nods. “Of course. Just in here.”

* * *

The next few hours are excruciating. Tony hovers on the outskirts until May practically grabs him and shoves him in a chair by Peter’s bed.

The kid looks so still. Too still. He should be talking, laughing, fidgeting, making faces at Tony behind May’s back when Happy holds her hand in front of them. Shit, Tony would happily go back to them shouting at each other. Anything is better than this.

“I should go,” Pepper murmurs around midnight. “I left Morgan at the apartment in Manhattan with her sitter, plus I need to draft up those NDAs.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go, too,” Happy says. “Don’t want to crowd him when he wakes up.”

“See you in the morning,” May says. “We’ll text you if anything happens.”

* * *

Their vigil after that is quiet. May takes one side, Tony the other, and they clasp his hands tightly. They’re cold, even by Peter’s standards.

“Getting on for a good few hours now, kid,” Tony murmurs when he can’t stand the silence any longer. “Whenever you want to wake up, that would be great. Take your time, but not too much time, okay? Find a grey area.”

“We’re right here, honey,” May says. “We’re right here with you.”

Tony starts running his fingers through Peter’s hair, slowly, on autopilot. They’d figured out a long time ago that it calmed him just as much as Peter, and now it’s instinct to do it whenever they’re close enough. He’s so preoccupied with the soothing motion of his hand, the gentle untangling of Peter’s curls, that he almost misses when the kid blinks, wrinkles his nose, sniffs.

“Oh!” May gasps. “Hey, baby, are you awake?”

“Mm…”

Tony manages a grin. “That’s exactly how he sounds before coffee, so I think we’re good.”

The instant Peter’s eyes land on Tony, they fill with tears.

“Hey, hey, no no no, don’t cry. It’s okay, Underoos. Does it hurt? Do you need more pain meds?”

A jerky shake of the head.

“Okay.” Tony swipes his thumb across Peter’s cheek. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about trying to talk for a while. Just rest.”

May takes Peter’s other hand again, gently stroking the back of it. “He’s right, sweetie. You can go back to sleep. You’re alright.”

Peter nods, his eyes already slipping closed, but he turns his head to the side, presses his nose into Tony’s palm.

They don’t need words. “I know, kid. I’m sorry too.”

That gets an agitated grumble.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. You’re more sorry.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Get some rest, kiddo,” May says. “We love you.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, his voice soft, “even when you’re screaming at me, I love you.”

Peter manages a content hum before he’s out again, his face relaxing. Tony sits back in his chair and smiles.


	2. tolerable, or maybe slightly enjoyable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: So.. Peter twisted his ankle and tony wants to take care of him, but Peter keeps walking on his injured limb and, even if tony makes him sit everytime he sees him walking, Peter aggravates his injury!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this came at a weirdly appropriate time bc my mum badly twisted her ankle and has spent the last few days hobbling around trying to be useful while we all yelled at her to stop and sit down

_“Hey, Tony.”_ May doesn’t sound as cheerful as usual when he answers her call.

“Hi, May.” They’re getting better at communicating, have been working on it since homecoming and the Vulture and that whole shitshow; a few angry phone calls later, May had finally agreed that Peter, and by extension Spider-Man, needs both of them. “How you doing?”

She takes a deep breath. _“I’m going to kill him, Tony.”_

“Mm, drastic.” Tony leans back in his seat, stretches, glares at his schematics. “What might have prompted this?”

_“He came home last night limping,”_ she says, _“and I only saw him because I’d had a late shift. He insisted he’d just twisted it or something, but I checked and it’s definitely sprained. And he won’t stay still! Every time I turn around, he’s off the couch and doing something. I don’t know how his super healing works, but I’m pretty sure ‘it’ll be healed soon, May!’ isn’t going to help him if it heals_ wrong _.”_

“No, you’re absolutely right.”

_“Oh, for God’s sake,”_ she whispers, half to herself. _“He slept with it up on a pillow, but he’s been walking on it all morning, and I need to leave for my shift in a couple of hours, and if he can’t even stay on the couch when I’m in the apartment with him…”_

Tony grins. “I’ll be half an hour.”

He knows for certain he’s made progress since homecoming because May doesn’t even sigh or make a comment about how he’s a _bad influence_. _“Really? Thank you, Tony. He’s a nightmare, honestly.”_

“Sure is, but we love him anyway.”

May pauses for a beat too long, and Tony realises what he’s just said. He panics, opens his mouth to apologise, but she just snorts. _“We do. Against our better judgment.”_

_Phew_. “Pack him an overnight bag, okay? I’ve got this for a couple of days, even if that means tying him to my _very_ comfortable couch.”

_“You might have to,”_ May says drily.

It’s just one weekend. He’s got this.

* * *

“Sit down!”

“I’m just seeing if you need any help–!”

“No!” Tony cries, gesturing wildly to the otherwise tranquil kitchen. “Everything is under control, okay? Now sit. _Down_.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbles, and hobbles back towards the couch. “Just so you know, you’re _way_ overreacting.”

“I am not! Do you understand that it could heal wrong if you keep walking on it? Damage for life?”

“You’re being dramatic!” Peter calls, but at least he’s sitting down again.

“Am nottttt!” Tony checks the grilled cheese sandwich, stirs the soup, glances over his shoulder to make sure Peter’s still on the couch. Christ, it’s like having a toddler. “Lunch is nearly ready, okay?”

“Do you need me to carry something–?”

“No!”

* * *

Halfway through _Rogue One_ , Tony feels the couch cushions shift and quickly glances up from his tablet. “Peter–“

“I’m just going to the toilet,” Peter whines.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Yes,” the kid mutters, dragging the word out.

“And then straight back here.”

“I _know_ , Mr Stark!”

“Less of the attitude, Web-doodle. I’m not doing this for the good of my health.”

Peter pauses, tilting his head. “Then why are you doing it?”

Tony frantically searches for an answer that isn’t too revealing. “Because you were stressing your poor aunt out and I offered to give her a break. Now, go pee, and then get your ass back on this couch with the ice pack.”

“Yes, sir!”

* * *

“Look, swinging doesn’t even use my legs – I could just web people up from a distance – or you could come with me!”

“No.”

“Whyyyyyyy?” Peter moans, on his back on the couch with a cushion over his head and his feet on Tony’s lap to keep the offending ankle elevated.

“I’ve seen you faceplant walls.”

“One time. One!”

“Multiple, actually, if the Spideywatch Twitter account is to be believed.”

“It isn’t,” Peter mutters mutinously.

“Uh-huh. All fake, right? Done on the computer? Like those lights over Phoenix?”

Peter groans.

* * *

_“Boss, Miss Potts has returned.”_

“Ah, finally. I can put the pasta on.” Tony heaves himself off the couch and sets a pan on the stove to start boiling. “Just gonna go and explain why you’re here, kid, so she doesn’t call your aunt and five custody lawyers. Be two minutes.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tony shakes his head and makes his way to the elevator, reaching it just as the doors open and Pepper steps out. “Hi, honey!”

Her eyes narrow instantly. “What have you done?”

“Nothing! Well, nothing that’s my fault. Just…Peter’s here, and I know I promised I’d cook tonight, but I don’t know if you wanted it to be a date kinda thing, but–“

“Oh, lovely!” Pepper says. “I haven’t seen Peter in a while.”

“And that’s why you’re my favourite person.”

She rolls her eyes with a grin and walks down the hall into the kitchen. Tony follows, only to find Peter by the stove, grinding salt into the bubbling water.

“Peter!”

“I’m just trying to help–!”

“Sit down!”

“Sorry, honey, he takes his pasta very seriously,” Pepper says. “Tony, will you calm down?”

“Don’t take his side!” Tony shrieks, grabbing the nearest barstool and dragging it over to the stove. “Get. Your ass. On there. Now.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told.

“Tony…” Pepper groans.

“No. Not ‘Tony’. This little idiot sprained his ankle and refuses to take care of himself – every time I turn around, he’s doing something new and stupid! I am on the _edge_ here, Pepper! I’m this close to buying a baby stroller and strapping him in it. Permanently!”

Peter shuffles around on his stool – high chair, because he’s a baby – and fixes Pepper with his best puppy eyes. “Miss Potts, I’m bored. I just want to help with dinner.”

“No worries, honey.”

“What?” Tony squeaks.

“You stay there and cook the pasta for us, and then after dinner, I want you on that couch, leg up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a salute, Peter turns back to the pot and starts to add the pasta that Tony had measured out earlier.

Pepper swings around to face Tony with a smug smile. “It’s that easy.”

Tony rests his head on her shoulder, breathing hard. From across the kitchen, Peter’s voice pipes up.

“Hey, you guys need me to set the table?”

“No!”

* * *

Tony only closes his eyes for a second, he swears. He’s just full after dinner, and he’s warm and comfortable on his couch, and he’s only resting his eyes. Even so, when he opens them again, Peter’s gone.

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

“I’m in the kitchen!”

“Kid!” Tony stumbles off the couch and into the kitchen with far less grace than he would like, but the end justifies the means. “You think I was kidding about that stroller? Are you _trying_ to stress me out? God, no wonder May was so happy to see me – I didn’t even get a barbed comment, do you understand how rare that is–?”

“I’m making camomile tea,” Peter says quietly. “It’s good for stress.”

“…oh. Thank you.”

“And I wanted more painkillers, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother Miss Potts in case she was doing work, and–“

“Okay,” Tony sighs, pulling the barstool over from the stove and gesturing for Peter to sit. “Next time: yes, bother us. That’s why we’re here, kid. To stop you making your ankle worse by doing stuff like this. I promise that will _significantly_ reduce my stress levels.”

“Didn’t want to be annoying,” Peter mumbles.

“You? Annoying? Never.” Tony blows on his tea. “In all seriousness, I promise you won’t. Pep loves having you around. I even find your presence tolerable.”

“Ooh, wow. Tolerable? Watch out, you’ll be upgrading to _slightly enjoyable_ before you know it.”

“Never,” Tony snorts. “Okay, you take your super drugs?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, back to the couch we go. _Empire_ or _Mandalorian_?”

“I need my fix of Baby Yoda.”

“Well, better that than coffee.”

* * *

“Tony?”

“Mm.”

“Tony.” It’s Pepper, gently shaking his shoulder. “I’m going to bed now, honey. You need anything before I do? I’ve already put Peter’s tablets on the coffee table in case he needs to take them during the night.”

“No…” Tony yawns. “No, that’s great, Pep, thanks.”

“No problem.” She kisses him quickly. “Goodnight.”

“Night, honey.”

“And goodnight, Peter.” This is barely above a whisper as she leans down to caress the head pillowed on Tony’s lap.

His response is a snore.

“Don’t know what I expected,” she murmurs with a laugh, and pads off down the hall.

“Real charmer, you are, kid,” Tony says with a sigh, letting his hand fall to Peter’s forehead. As if on instinct, his fingers start working through Peter’s hair, combing put tangles, only to freeze when the kid opens his eyes. “Oh, _now_ you wake up?”

“Playin’ with m’hair,” Peter mumbles. “‘S’nice.”

“Glad to hear it.” Tony spares a glance down the couch to check Peter’s foot is still up on the pile of cushions. “You need an ice pack or anything? More drugs?”

“You offering me drugs?”

“Only legal, ever-so-slightly experimental ones.”

Peter snorts. “‘M good, thanks. It’s feeling better.”

“Good.” Tony pushes a stray curl off Peter’s forehead, and grins when the kid closes his eyes and exhales happily. Like stroking a cat. “Get some rest, kid, I don’t want your aunt reading you the riot act. Or me.”

“She likes you really.”

“Good. She’s not so bad herself. Neither are you, come to think of it.”

“Wild. Am I being upgraded from _tolerable_ now?”

“Hm, maybe. When you’re not running around, bouncing off the walls, you’re almost manageable.”

“Love that for me,” Peter says sleepily. He shifts so he’s lying more comfortably, and turns his face into Tony’s stomach.

“Love that all I am to you is a pillow.”

Peter snores.

“Right. Good. Glad to hear it.” Tony settles his head back, and, calmed by the sound of Peter’s even breathing, quietly falls asleep. 


	3. divine judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How drunk are you?”
> 
> “Um…” Peter hiccups. “Rather.”
> 
> “Rather?”
> 
> “I am rather drunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: can you write how is Peter drunk and Tony is angry in him then gives him a lecture and grounding him 🙏🙏
> 
> i already wrote something similar for febuwhump last year, so it was fun to try something different for this scenario
> 
> warnings for underage drinking and disclaimer: I live in the uk, so the drinking age and culture is different, and my parents have always been super chill about this kind of stuff

Tony leaves Pepper behind him as he sprints down the hall towards the lounge. Happy meets him halfway, a neutral expression on his face.

“Is he okay?” Tony asks, out of breath.

“Oh, he’s fine, just…” Happy shakes his head. “Smashed. Pissed. Hammered.”

“Jesus. Where was he?”

“Some posh house out in the suburbs. Had a pool and everything. Not his usual crowd.”

“Ned called?”

“The scary one, actually. Never heard her sound so worried.”

“Tony.” Pepper’s finally caught up with him. “Be gentle.”

“Gentle? No, I’m going to kill him. This is exactly the kind of _me_ thing he needs to not be doing.”

“He’s not you,” she says. “Before you go storming in there, at least realise that you’re not actually this mad.”

“I’m not–? I am _exactly_ this mad.”

“No, you’re not,” Pepper says firmly. “Take a deep breath. Ninety percent of you is just worried. And you can go in there and yell about safety and responsibility, but he will most likely not remember it in the morning.”

Tony groans, runs a hand over his face. She’s right, as always. “Fine. Fine, I don’t want to kill him, but I am still very, very mad.”

“Better.”

“He knows he messed up,” Happy adds, “so, yeah, be nice. Yelling can happen tomorrow.”

“And it will,” Tony says, before turning to Pepper. “This might be a ‘stay in case of puke’ situation, so I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Fried breakfast,” she says, “and Advil.”

“You’re the best.”

“Good night, Tony.”

“Hap? Thanks for picking the kid up.”

“No problem, Boss. Kinda…easier with all four of us, right? Five, counting Rhodey.”

“Oh, May is gonna kill him,” Tony groans. “I’m not even the one he needs to be worried about.”

Happy just laughs and starts walking towards the elevator.

* * *

The sight in the lounge is pitiful. Peter is little more than a mound beneath a pile of blankets, a bucket on the floor by his head.

Tony sighs and lets go of his anger. For now. “Hey, kiddo.”

“T’ny,” Peter mumbles. “Feel gross.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He perches on the arm of the couch, run his fingers through Peter’s hair. There’s something sticky matting his curls together. “How drunk are you?”

“Um…” Peter hiccups. “Rather.”

“Rather?”

“I am rather drunk.”

“How? You have a faster metabolism than Rogers, so how much did you have to drink to–? No, scratch that. I don’t wanna know.”

“‘M sorry,” the kid whines.

“I know. If you aren’t now, you will be in the morning. And you’re gonna apologise to Happy, your friends, May.”

“‘Kay.” Peter’s voice drips misery.

“Oh, kid.” Tony’s hand moves to his cheek. “At least I’m not making this a teachable moment. Yet. That’s for tomorrow.”

“Mmmmmmmph.”

“Yep, sounds about right. Go to sleep, buddy. You’re alright.”

“This sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“The room…” Peter trails off. “Is spinning.”

Tony sighs again. “It’s not, Peter. Just go to sleep.”

The next sound he hears is a sniff.

“Pete?”

“You’re mad at me.”

“No. Well – yeah, I am, but it’s okay. Not the end of the world.”

“Mm. ‘Kay.”

Tony gets up with a groan, moving over the armchair. “I love you, even when you’re being a dumbass. That doesn’t change.”

Peter stares at him blearily from his cocoon of blankets. “Why’re you – bed?”

“Bed? No, I’m not going to bed. I’m staying here in case you barf on yourself during the night.”

“Oh.”

“Yup. Don’t worry, I was the same in college. Maybe this is karma. Rhodey’s hexed me with a mini-me.”

“Sorry’m your…divine judgement. Cosmic payback.”

“Could be worse.” Tony kicks his shoes off. “Sleep it off, kiddo.”

“Yeah…” Peter mumbles. “‘S’spinning…don’t like…”

Tony waits until his breathing evens out. ”Fri, wake me up if anything goes wrong.”

_“Of course.”_

“Thanks, girl.”

* * *

Tony wakes up to the smell of bacon frying and Peter groaning, and peels open one eye. The kid had clearly kicked his way out of his blanket burrito during the night and is now dangling one arm off the side of the couch, his face pressed into a cushion.

“How we feeling?”

“I regret every decision I’ve ever made in my life ever.”

“Yeah, welcome to adulting, kid.”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

Tony laughs and gets up, stretching. “You want breakfast?”

Peter groans again. It takes needling, promises, threats and bribery before the kid stumbles off the couch and towards the kitchen, eyes half closed.

“Wish I could muster up some sympathy for you right about now.”

“Stooop,” Peter whines. “I already feel awful. In every possible way. This is _my_ divine judgement.”

“In the _nicest_ possible way, good.” Pepper sets a plate on the kitchen table and motions for Peter to sit down. “Bacon, eggs, sausage. Toast is coming right up.”

Peter swallows and nods. “Thanks, but do you have, uh…?”

“Oh! Advil.”

“Thank you.”

Tony waits what he thinks is a reasonable amount of time – Peter swallows the tablets, downs a good amount of water and makes a decent dent in his breakfast. “Kid, we need to talk about last night.”

“Do we?”

“Yes.”

“I know, I’m just…putting it off.”

Pepper sits on the kid’s other side. “Honey, you need to understand that what you did wasn’t just dumb – which it was, by the way. It was so dangerous.”

Peter pitches forward to rest his forehead on the table and nods.

“You didn’t tell any of us – by which I mean responsible adults – where you were going.” Tony starts ticking off each point on his fingers as he talks. “You were _so_ drunk. So so drunk, which can only mean the amount of alcohol you consumed would have been _lethal_ if you didn’t have such a fast metabolism. I’ve told you before – May has told you before – if you want to drink, test your limits, whatever, you do it with one of us, not at some random house halfway out of the borough. You left your friends in charge of your safety, I assume without checking with them first, _and_ left them having to call Happy, who then had to call _us_ in the middle of a video conference with clients on the other side of the world. It was either that or call May, who had to be awake at six this morning. That place had a pool – _anything_ could’ve happened. What if someone noticed how much you were drinking? Or you did something no one thinks you’re able to do? Your classmates know you know me, Peter. It’s not a hard leap from that to Spider-Man.”

Peter takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I couldn’t get drunk. Not that drunk.”

“So, you what? Drank a disturbing amount in a horrifyingly short space of time?”

“…maybe.”

“ _Kid_.”

“Oh, God,” Peter wails into the table. “You’re not even mad. You’re disappointed.”

Pepper meets Tony’s eyes over Peter’s head, her lips pressed together as if she’s trying not to laugh.

“That’s worse, right?”

“Yes!”

“Just checking. Yes, I’m disappointed. Where’d my responsible kid go?”

“He downed several vodka shots and a shitload of beer and drowned in the pool.”

“Nope, you don’t get to joke about this.”

Peter lifts his head. “I never want to touch alcohol again. Happy?”

“Marginally. You are super super grounded, though.”

“Yeah, fair.” Peter chews on a piece of toast, still looking at Tony. “So…is that it?”

“What were you expecting?”

“Hm…more yelling, probably.”

“Not mad,” Tony reminds him, “just disappointed. Besides, you’re experiencing a hangover for the first time. I think that’s punishment enough.”

Pepper nods and strokes her hand through Peter’s hair. “When you’re done, have a shower, honey. You’ll feel better. Tony and I will tell May what happened, and you should let your friends know you’re okay and tell Happy thank you.”

“Yeah. I really am sorry.”

Pepper’s eyes scrunch up as she smiles. “That meeting was boring anyway.”

“Still sorry. And thank you, Mr Stark. Seriously.”

“Oh, what am I here for if not to bail my kid out of whatever idiotic trouble he gets himself into?”

“I’m an idiot,” Peter agrees and rests his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“No, but you do stupid things sometimes.” Tony kisses the top of his head. “I love you. You’re still grounded. Two weeks.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not gonna argue?”

“Don’t think I have the mental capacity for that right now. Or anything.”

“Yep, sounds about right. Go shower, message everyone you need to, and then I’ll show you the secret pros of hangover days.”

“What might they be?”

“Pyjama parties and movie marathons.”

“You’re not exactly making this sound unattractive, you know.”

“Remember how you felt when you woke up? Think about that the next time someone offers you alcohol. Also, exercise your decision-making skills. I know they’re in there somewhere.”

“Buried very, very deep. Possibly in a coma.”

“Have some coffee. You’ll need it before May hears about this.”

Peter groans again.


	4. definitely not stubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wait…” Tony narrows his eyes. “Peter Parker, is that stubble?”
> 
> “No,” Peter mutters. “…maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Will you write how Tony helps Peter shave Typical situation father son and clean fluff 🤗
> 
> have this as a nice break from febuwhump

“Here,” Tony says easily, licking his thumb and reaching over the workbench to scrub at something on Peter’s jaw.

Peter wriggles away, his face going pink, and Tony freezes. He just _licked his thumb_ and tried to clean the kid’s face with it, like he’s some kind of _parent_.

“Uh,” he stutters, “something on your face, kid.”

Peter scrubs at the shadow with the back of his hand, but half-heartedly, like he knows it’s pointless.

“Wait…” Tony narrows his eyes. “Peter Parker, is that _stubble_?”

“No,” Peter mutters. “…maybe.”

“Is my Spiderbaby growing up?”

“You’re so embarrassing!”

“Yep.”

“I hate you.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you do.”

Peter gives his face another rub, a little self-consciously. “Should probably, um, shave it, or something.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, his thoughts already racing. “Don’t wanna get old too fast. You’ll make your aunt sad. And me.”

“Promise I’ll still call from Boston.”

Tony pretends to clutch his chest, staggering to the nearest stool. “Don’t _say_ things like that.”

* * *

Tony has memorised May Parker’s work schedule – not creepy, just practical – so it’s easy to pick a day when she’s in and Peter isn’t. If she’s surprised by Tony Stark standing outside her door with a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers, she doesn’t show it, just sighs and lets him in like this is a normal, if slightly frustrating, occurrence.

“Not that this isn’t lovely,” she says as they sit on the couch, “but you already have a fiancée, Stark.”

“No, no, this is – I wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um, okay.” Tony shuffles his feet a little. It’s ridiculous that he’s this nervous. “Before I start, I just want to say: I know Ben was incredibly important to Peter, and I never want to get in the way of that. I just – I think the kid and I are close, and I love having him around.”

“Right,” May says, confusion etched across her face.

“So, in the lab the other day, I noticed he had some stubble–“

“Oh, thank God,” May breathes, flopping forward so her head is resting on her knees.

“Um…”

“I’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long,” she says, sitting up again, “but I wouldn’t know what to do. I can point him in the right direction, but I’m sure there’s a lot more precision required when it’s your face. And yeah, Ben never got the chance to show him.”

Tony just nods.

“Yes. God, yes, teach him to shave. I’m glad he has you. Although…” May’s eyes glint. “I do like the bribery. Is it going to be like this for every milestone? Maybe I should avoid telling you that you’ve been on the guest list for graduation for months.”

God bless May Parker.

“Kid’s growing up, May,” Tony says. “What are we going to bond over when he’s up in Cambridge?”

“Oh.” She waves a hand. “We’re going to be drinking wine and empty-nesting together, just you wait.”

* * *

“Okay, so gently – gently!”

“ _Please_ don’t shout when I’m holding something sharp inches from my face.”

“Sorry.” Tony grins. “Just remembered you’re super strong.”

Peter does his best to glare, but it’s very hard to take him seriously when the bottom half of his face is covered in shaving cream.

“Go with the flow of the hair, not against, otherwise you’ll piss them off. You don’t want that. They get angry and red. Angry little hairs.”

Peter snorts. “Right.”

“Gently, remember? Especially around your lips. They’re sensitive.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, start from the top. Carefully. And just…” Tony makes the motion with his hand, and grins when Peter copies, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Yep, you got it. Don’t worry about making a face – I do it shaving, Pep does it putting on makeup. Faces are awkward things. Okay, rinse the razor off in the sink, and go again.”

“Again?”

“Again and again until it’s done, and then repeat for the rest of your life.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort.”

“Yup. You think this happened overnight?”

Peter turns to look at him, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Oh! Your beard’s like that on purpose! I didn’t realise.”

Tony’s mouth falls open. He thinks a squeak escapes without his permission. The kid, on the other hand, flashes him an angelic smile and turns back to the mirror.

“Why?” Tony says. “Why do I try? I really thought we got along, kiddo. I had no idea you hated me this much.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Mr Stark, I do like your beard.” A pause. “I actually think it’s really cool that Doctor Strange is such an inspiration to you.”

Tony barks out a laugh, like the kid hasn’t just declared war. “You are so dead, Parker. Dead to me. No pizza nights ever again. I’m telling May to take me off your graduation list.”

“You’re on my graduation list?”

“I was as surprised as you are.”

“Huh.” Peter dips the razor in the sink and keeps going. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask her that for ages.”

“Well, your aunt’s a very smart – watch your chin – yeah, like that – she’s a very smart woman.”

“So are you two friends now?”

“We’re bonding over the emotional distress that comes with you becoming an adult.”

Peter’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t feel like an adult.”

“No one feels like an adult. Everyone’s winging it.”

“Except Pepper.”

“Oh, absolutely not Pepper. She came out of the womb with an itinerary for the day. No, the point is: with the exception of Pepper, no one knows what they’re doing. You don’t hit eighteen and a switch magically flips. That’s all bullshit. I spent my twenties in a permanent frat party.”

Peter snorts.

“Do I need to give you all the college talks? Just say no, no means no, always watch your drink–“

“I _know_ , Mr Stark.”

“And exercise common sense. Right, you’re pretty much done, so wipe off any extra shaving cream. Okay, then aftershave. Smells nice, keeps your skin moisturised, all that good stuff.”

“Gonna just grow a beard,” Peter mutters. “This is too much effort to do every day.”

“Now, that I’d love to see. Might give May a bit of a crisis, though.”

“Maybe it can be one of my college experiments.”

“Mm, maybe. You looking forward to college, kid, or are you gonna be a homebody? There, all done.” Tony takes the towel and wipes where Peter had missed, a little spot beneath his ear.

“Dunno yet. I’ll have to see. I’ll miss New York, definitely.” Peter smiles. “Thanks for this, Mr Stark.”

“Anytime, buddy.”


	5. four snippets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon left the prompt: 'I have a few proposition Would you write please 🙏 *Like peter jumping in front of Tony and takes a gun bullet. *How peter try cigarette because his colleagues persuaded him and Tony hits him and he's mad at him.😅 *How peter and tony play football and he's having a great time and Rhodey is a witness to this wonderful moment and relationship father-son * Like Peter and Tony play the piano'
> 
> i just wrote them as small drabbles. i also changed the second prompt slightly because i don’t believe tony would ever hit peter. enjoy!

_taking a bullet_

“And cheese balls,” Peter says, “and tortilla chips. Oh – did we get salsa?”

Tony leans on the handle of the shopping cart and waits as the kid darts down the aisle, piling snacks into his arms. Only Peter. Only Peter could get him in a grocery store.

“And sour cream dip!” Peter calls.

“Whatever you want, kid.”

Peter makes his way back towards Tony and spills his loaded arms into the cart. “Okay, we just need microwave popcorn – or do you want anything else?”

“I’m following your lead, bud.” Tony pulls his cap a little further over his face when a store employee walks past. “Normally Happy ventures out into the world for me. That, or I get delivery.”

“Or live off takeout and coffee for weeks on end,” Peter mumbles, and ducks when Tony swats at him. “Hey!”

“Oh, hush, you have superhuman reflexes.”

Peter rolls his eyes but he’s grinning when he turns away.

“We gonna add any vegetables to this mountain of junk?”

“Why, you gonna cook them?”

“I regret ever letting you get comfortable enough to sass me.”

Peter freezes in place, staring towards the store entrance. Tony shrugs, assuming he’s just remembered something else he wants, and starts to push the cart towards the checkout, one hand adjusting his sunglasses. He can hear footsteps in the next aisle – loud, deliberate. Someone in a rush, maybe.

It happens in the span of a heartbeat. Tony reaches the end of the row of shelves, his attention focused more on keeping the shops cart in a straight line than anything else. The footsteps grow closer. There’s a click, like the safety on a gun.

Peter lets out a wordless cry and suddenly Tony’s on the ground, sprawling, no idea how he got there, a loud bang echoing in his ears. The kid is somehow between him and two huge figures, dressed all in black, balaclavas covering their faces. The store’s being robbed.

In the confusion, he barely notices his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“Oh, shit,” one of the men says. “Fuck, man.”

“He came outta nowhere!”

“We were just supposed to lift some shit, not _shoot_ anyone!”

They have _guns_ , and Tony is sitting on his ass while his kid faces them down.

He leaps into action, gauntlet already formed around his hand before he’s on his feet. The two robbers take one look at his furious expression, the repulsor charged and ready to fire, and bolt.

_Yeah, that’s right_ , Tony thinks. Peter makes a little sound from behind him, something between a gasp and a whimper, so he turns. “Hey,” he says, “you good? Pete?”

Peter lifts his hand away from his side, trembling fingers stained with red. He stares at the blood like he’s not sure what it is, like it’s mildly fascinating instead of terrifying.

“Peter!” Tony lunges forward as he sways, tips forward, and catches him just in time to lower gently him to the ground. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Peter had pushed Tony out of the way, had put himself between Tony and the gun. He’d willingly taken a bullet.

“You’re an idiot,” Tony tells him fiercely as he shrugs off his jacket and balls it up to press against the wound. “Such a – you’re so _stupid.”_

Peter smiles, but his expression is clouded with pain. “I couldn’t save Ben, but I – I saved you.”

“Idiot,” Tony mutters again. The wound isn’t life-threatening – they’ve both been shot enough times for him to know that – but his heart still clenches when he puts more pressure on the wound and the kid cries out. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” His watch, still folded out into a gauntlet, buzzes with an incoming message. “Okay, Happy saw it all from his parking spot. Cops and ambulances are on their way. We’ll fix you up, kiddo, and then you’re grounded for life. No jumping in front of bullets.”

“Superhuman reflexes,” Peter reminds him weakly, and despite everything, Tony can’t help but laugh.

* * *

_cigarette_

“What the hell?” Tony hisses, slamming the car door behind him as he stalks towards the house. Teenagers stumble out of his way – drunk, high, he doesn’t give a shit – and he quickly closes in on the group huddled around the front door.

They haven’t noticed him yet, probably too off their heads. A few others have, whispers of Tony Stark rippling through the crowd. Eventually, Peter’s enhanced hearing must pick it up, because he looks up and makes direct eye contact with Tony, horror flooding his expression.

Yeah. He knows he’s fucked up.

“What is this?” Tony demands as he comes to a stop. He doesn’t recognise any of the kids clustered around Peter; they’re not his friends.

“M-Mr Stark–“

“Mind telling me why I got a call from one of your friends telling me you’d gone to some shady party without them?”

“I…”

Tony’s gaze travels down to Peter’s hand, where he’s loosely dangling something between his fingers. “What the _fuck_?” he snarls, lunging to grab it.

Peter jerks back. The cigarette flutters to the ground.

Everything freezes, and most of Tony’s anger melts away. Peter had _flinched_. He’d thought Tony was going to hit him. “Okay,” he says quietly, “just get in the car, please. The rest of you, tell whoever’s in charge they have an hour to clear this up before the cops come to crack down on underage drinking.”

Peter follows him back to the car, dragging his feet and looking anywhere but at Tony. They sit in silence for a while.

“Ned called you, didn’t he?”

“Scary Girl, actually. Glad to see at least one of your friends has a brain cell between you.”

Peter sighs. “I didn’t drink anything, I promise. That cigarette wasn’t even lit – and I wouldn’t have–“

“I know,” Tony says. “Just thought you were going down a scarily Tony Stark-esque path for a minute. You’re a better kid than I ever was.”

Peter manages a weak smile.

“And it wouldn’t matter if you weren’t – if you were the worst kid in the world. I’d never hit you, kid, _ever_.”

That finally makes Peter look at him, a confused frown on his face. “I know. I don’t think you would. No, I _know_ you wouldn’t. I just – you made me jump. ‘Cause my spidey sense never goes off around you, so I wasn’t expecting you to move that fast. That’s all.”

It’s Tony’s turn to smile. “Oh. Good.” _Thank God_.

Peter’s quiet for a moment, then, “Please don’t tell May.”

* * *

_football_

“Tony!” Rhodey yells, shielding his eyes from the sun as he steps out onto the porch. “You guys want a drink?”

Instead of an answer, delighted laughter floats up from the direction of the lake.

“That doesn’t count!”

“Yes, it does!”

“You’re cheating!”

“You knew what you were getting into, Mr Stark.”

Tony appears, walking up the hill towards the house, with the kid trotting at his heels, a football in one hand.

“You’re cheating in every possible way, and then some.”

Peter smirks.

“Sticky hands. Fast. Strong.”

“Like I said, you should have expected this.”

Tony sighs. “Hey, Rhodey. What’s up?”

“He asked if we wanted a drink.”

“Strong alcohol,” Tony says immediately. “My ego is taking a beating here.”

“Yeah, you know there’s no alcohol in the house. Pregnant wife, baby on the way.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll be in in a minute. I need at least one touchdown out of this.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Rhodey settles himself on one of the porch chairs. “This I gotta see.”

Tony flips him the bird and lurches towards Peter, as if he’s trying to grab the ball out of the kid’s hands. Peter’s reflexes are faster than that.

“Oh, come on!”

Peter runs, but not as fast as Rhodey knows he can, just slow enough that Tony can catch up, grab him around the waist. They’re both laughing, hands scrabbling for the ball, and Tony suddenly tips them both backwards. They land in a heap in the soft grass, Peter’s fall cushioned by Tony, the two of them laughing so hard they’re almost breathless.

Tony finally gives up trying to steal the ball and resorts to pressing kisses to every inch of Peter’s face that he can reach, ignoring the kid’s yelps and attempts to wriggle away – token protests, Rhodey knows; if Peter really didn’t want to be there, Tony would need a suit to stop him.

Eventually they give up their play wrestling and lie on their backs, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the cloudless sky. Tony says something that Rhodey can’t hear, but whatever it is make Peter butt his head into his shoulder and leave it there.

Rhodey decides their drinks can wait – he doesn’t want to disturb their little world, doesn’t want to intrude on the happiness that shines out of Tony whenever he’s around the kid. If anyone deserves Peter Parker, it’s Tony Stark.

And he still thinks he’s going to be a bad father? Rhodey snorts to himself. _Dumbass_. He’s already a great one.

* * *

_piano_

“Okay, so just press with the pads of your fingers – no, not the ends.”

Peter does, copying Tony’s hand position with a look of deep concentration.

“Don’t bend them outwards, either. Nasty, spidery fingers. Kill the spiders.”

“I’m a spider,” Peter mutters, but softens his hands, rounding them out.

“Yeah, nice and relaxed. Right, where your thumbs are – that’s called middle C.”

“‘Cause it’s in the middle?”

“Yep, and also to differentiate it from the other Cs.”

“There’s _more?”_

“Well, yeah, the notes repeat. There’s not a whole alphabet happening. Here.” Tony gestures all along the piano. “Look at the black notes. You see the pattern?”

“Twos and threes, with gaps.”

“Exactly. So, where does middle C come?”

“Before a pair of black notes.”

“Yeah. And that’s how the pattern works. The same eight notes repeat over and over – octaves – and C is always in the same place.”

“Oh, I see,” Peter breathes. “Mr Stark. Mr Stark, get it? I _see_.”

Tony takes a deep breath. “Disowned.”

“What–?”


	6. delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey.” Tony moves around the side of the bed. “Hey, kid, can you hear me?”
> 
> “Mm…” Peter opens his eyes, but they’re not focused, seemingly looking through Tony rather than at him. “Oh. Hey, Ben.”
> 
> Tony’s stomach bottoms out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @seek-rest asked on Twitter: Peter being delirious!!!!! Maybe tried to save Tony from something and got hit with it instead?
> 
> this completely got away from me lol

“This guy’s really stolen my thing,” Peter complains from his perch on Tony’s back. “Tarantula Man? Whatever.”

Tony sighs and concentrates on flying in a straight line.

The kid keeps chattering. “Like, why’d he have to get so specific about it? Is he going for a Black Widow kinda vibe?” A pause. “Oh my _God_ , do you think he’s really hairy?”

“Yeah, can this be a later conversation?” Tony says. “Guy can stick to walls. I need you on point here, kid.”

“I’m in charge?” Peter squeaks. “Okay, okay, okay, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Cool.”

“Focus up, Underoos.”

“Uh-huh, um…one thing I have that he doesn’t have is webs. We can both move a lot faster than him.”

“Copy that,” Tony says, and tips into a roll, wincing at Peter’s whoop of delight. “Hey, no more piggybacks if you can’t be cool.”

_“One block out,”_ FRIDAY announces, and the joking mood dissipates like a wisp of smoke.

“I’ll get in close and you hang back?” Peter suggests, hesitant, like he’s expecting Tony to shoot it down. “Cover the cops until they can get the hostages out safely?”

“Sounds good.” Tony banks around the final corner. “All right, go.”

Peter slides off his back and drops, shooting a web at the closest building and swinging down the street. Tony slows, hovers, takes in the figure clinging to the outside of the bank.

“Fri, how many hostages?”

_“Fifteen.”_

“All right, tell the police to back away a bit. This could get complicated very quickly.”

Peter hops the gap between two buildings, a flash of red of blue that catches everyone’s eye. Unfortunately, that includes Tarantula.

“Make a note, Fri. Kid needs a stealth suit.”

_“Copy that. Colonel Rhodes is still en route from Washington, but ETA is around twenty minutes.”_

“Thanks.”

“Spider-Man!” Tarantula yells.

“That’s me!” Peter calls back. “Are we gonna have a cat fight. Oh! A _spider_ fight!”

“I will release the hostages once the police leave!”

“Did they get my message about backing off?” Tony murmurs.

_“They did.”_

“So why didn’t they?”

“Come on, man, you seem very insecure. I’m just here to tell you it’s okay.” Peter’s moving closer. “Look, I have spidery powers, and I don’t feel like I have to rob banks to get off, or whatever. I mean, whatever does it for you, but this is a tiny bit…illegal. And wrong. Very wrong.”

“You’re a _child_ ,” Tarantula snaps.

“But I’m a great listener!” Peter says chirpily. “What’s your deal, man? Ooh…are you actually really hairy?”

That does it. Tarantula leaps off the front of the building with an inarticulate roar, straight towards Peter.

“Go!” Peter yells as he leaps clear. The police understand, thankfully, and rush into the bank, guns drawn. Tony hovers, itching to dive into the fight, but also wanting to see if the kid can handle it.

Apparently he can. Peter backflips out of range of a vicious kick and shoots a web. It catches Tarantula in the arm and glues him to the edge of the roof.

“Good shot!” Tony calls, but any further praise dies in his throat when Tarantula lifts his free hand and slashes through the webs.

“Guy has claws!” Peter yelps. “Repeat, the guy has claws!”

“Be careful!” Tony says.

“No duh, Mr Stark!”

Tony decides he’s going to give him a pass for that one. “Yeah, yeah. Keep him busy. Police are working on freeing the hostages.”

“Copy that.” Peter dodges another blow. “Come on, man. What did New York ever do to – ah!”

“Kid?”

“I’m good, I’m fine.” Is Tony imagining things, or is Peter’s breathing a little laboured? “He has, uh, spurs – I think that’s what you call them? Spurs on his boots. Just jabbed me. No big deal.”

Tony’s all too familiar with Peter’s concert of ‘no big deal’, but the hostages are fleeing the bank and they need to keep Tarantula occupied. “All right, I’m joining in. Police have it handled down here.”

“Cool. Yeah, could maybe use some – dude!”

Tony lands with a thud between Tarantula and Peter, taking note of the kid clutching his forearm.

“Think he took ‘cat fight’ a little too literally,” Peter mutters.

Tony snorts. “Hi, Tarantula. I get the whole vibe you’re going for, but I already have a favourite spider. No offence.”

“Aww, Mr Stark!”

Tarantula moves faster than Tony thought possible, leaping into the air and arcing over his head. Peter shoots a web, misses.

“Light him up, Fri.” His suit responds with a hail of repulsor fire, but Tarantula somehow skips and ducks away from every shot.

Peter charges forward, throwing a well-aimed punch (Rhodey’s hand-to-hand training is clearly paying off) that Tarantula dodges with no trouble. A punch, a kick, and the kid goes down with a groan.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony snarls, but he can’t fire again, not with Peter lying prone only a few feet away.

“I wasn’t going to kill you, Iron Man,” Tarantula says, “or him, but you’ve really pissed me off.”

“Kinda what we do,” Tony says. Peter is struggling to his feet; he needs to keep Tarantula’s attention away from him. “You just experienced a master class in irritating distractions. Hope you learned something, like maybe don’t try to rob a bank and take people hostage. That’s always a good lesson.”

Tarantula flexes his hands, the claws on his gloves glinting silver. Vibranium, Tony realises. They’ll slice right through his armour. After making the kid a stealth suit, he’s getting straight to work on that nanotech. One for Peter, too.

“Nice nails. Where’d you get that manicure? My fiancée’s looking for a new place–“

With a wordless shout, Tarantula surges forward, but Peter moves faster. Tony blinks and a blur of red and blue jumps in front of him, taking the blow instead.

“Shit!” Peter yells, and that’s enough to jolt Tony into action. He fires a stun blast, then another, both at close range. Another volley of webs follows, until finally Tarantula is wrapped in a subdued bundle.

_“Damn, you guys got him already?”_

“Yeah, nice of you to drop by,” Tony retorts. “Super on time. Plenty for you to do.”

Rhodey lands and has the audacity to shrug. “Some of us lead busy lives, Tones. Look, I’ll take him down to the cops for you. I’m contributing.”

Tony flips him the bird and turns to Peter. “You good?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says, absently rubbing his arm.

“Okay, great, because now I can chew you out without feeling bad about it. What the _hell_ was that? You do not put yourself in front of me like that again, you hear me? I have a suit; you have a leotard.”

“Mr Stark–“

“I’m responsible for your reckless little ass. It’s my job to stop bad things happening to you, not the other way around.”

“Mr Stark,” Peter insists. “I feel…weird.”

_Crap_. “Weird? Weird how?”

“Like…fuzzy. And I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“You think?”

Peter collapses forward and face plants Tony’s chest plate.

“Shit!” Tony blurts out, just barely catching him under the armpits in time to stop him crashing to the floor. “Rhodey?”

_“Down here with the cops and Mr Angry. What’s–?”_

“I’m taking the kid to medical. Meet you there.” Tony closes the link and hoists Peter into a bridal carry, trying to ignore the way the kid’s head lolls. “Fri, ETA?”

_“Ten minutes. I have already informed Doctor Cho.”_

* * *

“Talk to me,” Helen says the second Tony arrives.

Tony takes a deep breath, praying to find the calm he seems to possess at any moment that Peter isn’t injured. “One minute he was fine, and the next he just collapsed on me.”

“Put him on the bed,” she instructs. “Okay, I can see wounds on the arm and four puncture marks in a line on the opposite shoulder.”

“The guy did have claws.”

“Heart rate is irregular. Breathing too,” one of the nurses adds.

“Run his blood. Can I take the suit off?”

It takes Tony a moment to realise that question had been addressed to him. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Actually – let me.”

Helen stands back but continues talking at a hundred miles an hour. “He seems to be having a strange reaction to these wounds. Any chance the weapons used were coated in poison?”

“Potentially. Are tarantulas venomous?”

“Yes,” Cho says.

“Shit.” Tony peels the suit off Peter’s right arm and gags when he sees the claw marks. “‘No big deal’, he said. I’m gonna kill him. Soon as he’s up and about.” He turns to Cho. “You can fix this, right?”

“Look,” she says, “if it was just a scratch, he might have been fine, but as it is, he’s been hit two–“ She breaks off when Tony pulls the suit further down to reveal another puncture wound on Peter’s side, bleeding sluggishly. “Three times. I’m going to have to synthesise an antidote, and for that–“

“You need the poison.” Tony pulls out his phone, pressing Rhodey’s contact. “Hey, where are you?”

_“Still down at the police station trying to process this Tarantula guy–“_

“I need something. He was wearing boots with a spur, and his suit had claws. Can you bring them here, ASAP?”

_“That’s all evidence, Tones–“_

“The claws and the boots had poison on them,” Tony snaps. “The kid’s been hit. Helen needs to make an antidote.”

_“Shit,”_ Rhodey mutters. _“All right, I’ll pull rank. Damage Control is on the way anyway.”_

Tony lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good. Great. Thank you.”

_“Tell the kid to hang in there.”_

“Uh-huh.”

“Good news?” Helen says, not looking up as she tapes gauze over Peter’s wounds.

“Yeah, Rhodey’s on the way.” Tony hovers awkwardly at the foot of Peter’s bed. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

Helen nods briskly. “Keep him calm until then.”

As if on cue, Peter stirs, the sheets rustling as he shifts.

“Hey.” Tony moves around the side of the bed. “Hey, kid, can you hear me?”

“Mm…” Peter opens his eyes, but they’re not focused, seemingly looking through Tony rather than at him. “Oh. Hey, Ben.”

Tony’s stomach bottoms out.

“I get sick ‘gain, or somethin’?”

“Go with it,” Helen murmurs. “Keep him calm.”

Tony is not Ben Parker. He can’t even hold a candle to the man, the man who raised Peter and helped shape him into the brilliant kid now lying in a hospital bed. “Uh, yeah,” he says anyway, “yeah, buddy, but don’t worry about it. You’re gonna be fine.”

“‘Kay.” Peter blinks. “Heh, there’s a fish on the ceiling.”

“Sounds interesting, kiddo.”

“D’you…?” Peter trails off. “D’you remember when we went up– upstate, and watched the stars?”

_Jesus_. “Sure do, buddy,” Tony manages.

“I can see ‘em now.”

“What do they look like, Pete?”

“So beautiful,” Peter whispers, childlike awe creeping into his tone. “Can we catch one? Like, bring it home for May?”

“No, they gotta – gotta stay where they are. They don’t belong down here.”

“Mm, they’ve too pretty,” Peter agrees. “Misser S’ark? When’d you get here?”

Tony gives him a relieved smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re okay.”

“‘Kay,” Peter agrees, and Tony almost breaks at how blatantly the kid trusts him. “I musta done something, right? What’d I do?”

“You don’t remember the Tarantula guy?”

“He’s confused,” Helen murmurs. “Probably from the poison. Just keep him talking.”

“The _what_ man?” Peter complains. “Why’s he stealing my thing?”

_Yeah, you already said that_. Tony bites his lip. “I don’t know, buddy.”

Peter squints up at him. “You’re sad. Why’re you sad?”

“‘Cause I don’t like seeing you so confused. You jumped between me and a bad guy, kiddo. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, I did,” Peter says, earnestness seeping into every word. “You can’t keep me safe all the time. I’m a _nightmare_.”

Tony doesn’t know when he drifted closer, when he took one of Peter’s hands in his, but he squeezes his fingers as he laughs. “No denying that, kid.”

“Stop calling me kid,” Peter mumbles with a frown. “It’s…ageist.”

“It’s _what_?”

_“Colonel Rhodes has arrived,”_ FRIDAY announces. _“He has the requested items.”_

Helen leaves immediately, her stride that of someone on a mission. Peter watches her go through half-closed eyes before looking back at Tony.

“What were we talking about?”

* * *

It seems like hours before Helen returns with a syringe and a vial, during which time Tony has been called Happy, Ben again, and Mr Harrington, for some reason.

“Luckily, the same substance was on both the claws and the boot spurs. No chance of a strange reaction.” She draws the liquid into the syringe. “Distract him for a minute. He always hates needles.”

Tony nods. “Hey, kid?” He’s not entirely sure what the kid’s delirious brain is going to label him this time, but ’kid’ always seems a pretty safe bet.

Peter blinks owlishly and turns his head. “Hey, Tony.”

“Oh, it’s Tony now?” Tony grins, reaches out to brush a strand of hair off Peter’s forehead. “I’m gonna remember this, I hope you know that. No more Mr Stark from you.”

Cho quickly injects into Peter’s arm and nods when she steps back.

“See, that’s all done.”

“What’s all done?”

Tony grins again. “Nothing, kid. Take a nap. You’ve earned it.”

“‘M’kay,” Peter agrees, and closes his eyes, but doesn’t let go of Tony’s hand; he even has the audacity to reach up and grab the hand that’s resting in his hair.

“No, kiddo – you have to let go. You’re sticky, remember?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Peter lets out a snore.

“Right. Terrific.” He’s being used as a teddy bear by a sixteen-year-old super teen, and he can’t even bring himself to care about it. “Carry on.”

_“Boss, Colonel Rhodes is requesting entry. He is holding his phone – with the camera app open, I believe.”_

Tony sighs, resigns himself to his fate. “Perfect.”


	7. this is gonna hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is gonna hurt,” he warns.
> 
> Peter eyes the gauntlet with trepidation. “Starting to regret suggesting this.”
> 
> “Starting to regret agreeing.” Tony’s hand hovers over the wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> webbing-parkers asked: prompt — peter and tony are somewhere remote and can’t get medical attention in time, peter is bleeding out too fast so tony has to cauterize the wound with his gauntlet or something?

“We need to keep going,” Peter insists. “Come on, Mr Stark, we have to keep moving.”

Brave words, considering Tony’s supporting at least half of his weight as they stagger through the woods. Blood is staining his already grimy T-shirt, although not a dangerous amount. Yet, anyway.

“I don’t think they’re following us, kid,” Tony says, fighting the urge to just scoop Peter into his arms and take off. He could, too; it’s not like he isn’t wearing a fully-functional nanotech suit. Except those people only caught them in the first place because they managed to knock him out of the sky as soon as he got near, and he has no idea if they’re out of range of their defences yet. “You need to rest, come on.”

“No,” Peter whines, but he lets Tony ease him down and rest him against a large tree trunk.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony says. “We still have a bit to go before we’re out of range of whatever shot me down in the first place, okay? Just five minutes. Let me check your side.”

Peter doesn’t protest, which is how Tony knows it’s really bad. Because Peter couldn’t just get himself to safety like a sensible person, could he? No, he had to try and cause a distraction while Tony retrieved his suit, only to get shot by their captors. Tony’s still swallowing down the throb of fear that had shaken his whole body when he’d rounded a corner to see Peter slumped against the wall. For a horrible second, his brain had painted over the scene, had replaced his kid with a dying Yinsen.

“Come here,” he says gently, pulling Peter’s shirt up. The wound is only dribbling blood, but that’s not exactly comforting; the bullet is still inside. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t get the bullet out just yet. It’s stopping you bleeding out.”

“Terrific,” Peter huffs, biting his lip as Tony probes the wound a little more. “It’s definitely not gonna get infected out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Infections, we can deal with when the team find us,” Tony says. “That’s curable.”

Peter manages a wry grin. “Exsanguination, on the other hand…”

“Disgusting,” Tony mutters, but he smirks back. “You make me sound like a vampire. You ready to keep going?”

“Stopping was not my idea,” Peter reminds him, but he pales when Tony helps him up, sways a little. “I’m good, just – hurts.”

“No shit.”

“Give me sympathy!”

“No, you’re an idiot.”

Peter laughs quietly.

“Glad you find this so funny, Webs.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“I know. Is it working?”

A grunt, either of pain or effort, as they make their way up a slight incline.

“Hey, have I ever told you the story of me coming in through the dorm window at MIT and scaring Rhodey so much he locked himself in the bathroom?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Okay.” Tony pulls the kid’s arm a little tighter around his shoulders. “Let me preface this by saying we were both at this party, okay? I just stayed later than he did.”

He can’t tell if Peter’s really listening, but he recounts the tale anyway, just to fill the silence, just to keep him conscious. Ten painful minutes later, he stops again, lets Peter lean against a tree while he sends a distress signal from his suit and prays it doesn’t get picked up by the people they just escaped.

“Mr _Stark_ ,” Peter says, and he’s so white he’s almost translucent.

“Okay,” Tony says, easing him down once again. “The team are on the way, hopefully. How long can you hang on?”

Peter shakes his head. “Please, get it out.”

Tony knows he’s right; he doesn’t want to leave the bullet in any longer either, but, “With what?”

“I don’t _care_ , just–“

“Peter, even if I could, how am I going to stop the bleeding? I don’t exactly have a first aid kit on me.”

In answer, the kid eyes his chestpiece. “Your gauntlet could…”

“No!” Tony blurts. “No way. Do you have any idea–? _Christ_ , kid, I’m not doing that to you. Like it’s not bad enough you want me to stick my fingers in your side and probably give you five kinds of infection…”

“I can feel it every time I move,” Peter says, eyes wide and pleading. “It’s, like, on my hipbone. Mr Stark, _please_.”

Tony’s going to regret this for the rest of his life, he knows he is, but he sighs and nods. “Okay. All right. Um, lie down. Pull your shirt out of the way.”

“Oh, wow, that worked?”

“You know I can’t argue when you look that pitiful.”

“I know,” Peter says with a shit-eating grin.

Tony sighs and wills one arm of his suit out of its housing unit, letting it flow down towards his hand. “This is gonna hurt,” he warns.

Peter eyes the gauntlet with trepidation. “Starting to regret suggesting this.”

“Starting to regret agreeing.” Tony’s hand hovers over the wound. “You realise once I get the bullet out, we’re committed, yeah? No take-backs.”

A jerky nod.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, all right?”

“Yep.” Peter’s voice is strained.

“Here.” Tony shrugs off his jacket and rolls it tightly before holding it out to Peter. “Bite down. Don’t wanna…” _Crack your teeth. Bite through your tongue_.

Peter does as he’s told, but he’s tense all over, and Tony can tell he’s going to fight, whether he means to or not. An idea forms in his head: an awful awful idea.

“Close your eyes,” he says, carefully keeping his voice steady. _God, I wish you were unconscious right now_. Peter does without question. “Right. Deep breath.” And he plunges his fingers into Peter’s wound.

Peter’s jaw clenches, his breathing stuttering, but he doesn’t move otherwise.

“Good boy,” Tony breathes. He can feel the bullet; he just needs to get a grip on it. Shit, what he wouldn’t give for a pair of tweezers. He probes a little deeper, winces at Peter’s muffled grunt. “Almost got it, kid.” He finally pinches the bullet between his thumb and forefinger, drawing it out carefully. “There.”

Peter sighs and relaxes, but an alarming amount of blood is starting to pour out of the wound. Tony tosses the bullet away, makes sure Peter’s eyes are still closed and taps his chestpiece twice. His suit peels out, covers the rest of his body. The gauntlet lights up.

_Shit_ , Tony thinks, and braces one knee over Peter’s legs, the other on his chest, hoping he doesn’t have to use his suit’s full strength. He swallows and presses the gauntlet down.

Peter screams, jerking so violently that he spits out Tony’s balled-up jacket.

“Sh, sh,” Tony tries, frantic. If their captors are within a mile radius, they’ll probably hear this. “I know it hurts. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop!” Peter screeches. “Stop it, please–“ He tries to push Tony’s hand away, but even weak and injured, the shove is so forceful that Tony nearly ends up scoring a scorched line across his stomach.

“Peter!”

“No, _no_ – it hurts, it – Mr _Stark_!” He’s kicking weakly, doing nothing against the suit, but his fingers are scrabbling at the gauntlet still.

“Peter, stay still–“

“ _Tony_!” Peter wails.

Tony grabs both of Peter’s wrists with his free hand and wrestles them over his head, pinning them to the ground.

“Let go!” Peter cries, and to Tony’s horror, he dissolves into helpless sobs. “Please, please, stop it – _stop_ , please–“

Tony grits his teeth and keeps his gauntlet pressed down, trying to breathe through his mouth so he doesn’t have to smell what he’s doing – but he can _hear_ it, can hear the hum of his suit and Peter’s flesh sizzling and his screams–

He pulls his hand back to check the wound and sags with relief when he sees it completely closed. “Okay. Okay, it’s done. It’s over, kid.” He can’t release Peter’s hands fast enough.

Peter doesn’t move, just stares upwards with a terrifyingly blank gaze, his breaths shuddering.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers, and retracts the suit, “God, I’m so sorry. You did good, buddy. You did so good.”

Peter whines, one limp hand searching for Tony, who pulls away. He’s the one who just hurt his kid.

“Hurts,” Peter whispers.

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Tony turns away, running a shaking hand over his face. The same hand that had held Peter down, forced his arms to the ground.

There’s a grunt behind him, and then Peter appears at his side, wrapping himself around Tony’s arm like a koala. “Sorry you had to do that.”

“You – you’re sorry?” Tony extricates his arm and wraps it around Peter’s shoulders instead, draws him closer; he can’t bring himself to ignore the kid’s obvious need for comfort, not after that. “ _I’m_ sorry, buddy. I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve said.” Peter tries for a smile, but it looks more like a grimace. Tear tracks glisten on his cheeks. “Was my idea.”

“Never listening to you again,” Tony murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss into Peter’s hair.

“Not even when I’m right that the Chinese off Fifth is better?”

“Not even then, ‘cause you’re wrong.”

“Blasphemy,” Peter says. Tony doesn’t understand why he hasn’t pulled away yet. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself.”

“Did I, or did I not, just hold you down while I melted your bullet wound shut?”

“Because I asked you to,” Peter says. “You had to get it out. Even if you hadn’t, I still would’ve been bleeding. Besides, I’m gonna have a cool scar.”

“In the words of a very smart wizard, you need to sort out your priorities.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. “Can we watch that when we get back?”

_When. When we get back. We’re going home_. “Sure, kiddo. _Harry Potter_ and Chinese. I’ll order from that place you like, even though it’s worse.”

“Shut up.”

“Bold words considering I just saved your life.”

“You seem to do that on a regular basis.”

“Mm-hm. And it is my unreserved pleasure.” He can hear the Quinjet in the distance, slowing down to hover over the trees a couple of hundred yards away. “Hey, look, here’s our ride, buddy. Time to go home.”

“We’re going home?” Peter says.

“Yeah, kid, we’re going home.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to leave a prompt, i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites or @akillerqueenyouare. i've also made a twitter, @killerqueenao3, if any of you want to talk to me there (it's mostly pictures of my dog). thank you for reading!


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